Why They're Them
by Louvampyer
Summary: PreRent fic. A short history of each of the bohemians life, explaining why their the way they are. Maureen, Angel, Collins, and Mark done.
1. Maureen

I don't own any of the characters associated with Rent, but I do own the other ones… I have no money, don't sue me…

****

Maureen Johnson sat on the side of the stage, tapping her feet as her best friend, Jessica, sang. Once her cue came up, Maureen jumped up and began dancing around the stage. Jessica smiled at her as the audience began applauding them. Of course their act was the hit. Their acts were always the hits, but that really only had to do with the fact that they were the most popular girls in school. Even if the performance wasn't as great as it was, the girls still would have gotten that standing ovation.

Well, the concert was over, and Maureen and Jessica were watching movies and sleeping over at Maureen's house. Once the movie ended, and the girls were getting ready for bed, Jessica looked over at Maureen and frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You don't have nothing face. You have something face." Maureen plopped down on her bed and smiled up at Jessica. "Tell me what's up."

Jessica sat down and looked at the ground. "My dad got transferred to Florida."

The smile vanished from Maureen's face. "Well what does that mean?"

"It means that next month, I'm moving to Florida." A tear rolled slowly down the girls face.

Maureen jumped up, raising her voice just a bit. "You can't move! Who am I gonna hang out with?"

"I don't want to go. I'm sorry, but I have to."

This was way too much for Maureen to deal with. How could she get by with out Jessica? The girl who taught her how to dance? The person who taught her how to by common clothes at Walmart and make them into one-of-a-kind concoctions? The girl who taught her how to kiss? (Little did she know how much that would affect her later in her life.) "You can't even finish your last year of high school here?"

"Nope." Jessica stood up and put a hand on Maureen's shoulder, only to have it pushed away. "It's not like I want to go! It's not up to me! And this is a really good thing for my parents."

"What about _you_! What about what's good for _you_?" She sat back down on her bed, doing all she could to fight back the tears. "What about me?"

Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. "What about you? I'm the one who has to leave everything I know, make new friends, in a whole new place. You get to stay here with everything you already understand."

"So that means it's not going to be hard for me?"

It was Jessica's turn to raise her voice. "Not _everything_ can always be about _you_ Maureen!" Seeing the look on Maureen's face, Jessica lowered her voice. "And anyway, you're still the most popular girl in school. You'll make new friends."

"I'm not the most popular girl. I don't do anything. You're the popular one, and since I hang out with you, I get some of the lime light."

"Well then do something."

"Like what?"

"Something that will make you the one to stand out."

"I can't think about this anymore. Let's just go to sleep." Maureen crawled under her blankets and cried herself to sleep.

The girls last month together came and went, they said their sad goodbyes, and Maureen was back to being the one nobody noticed. She had never realized how much she liked being the one in the spot light.

"_Well then do something."_

"_Like what?"_

"_Something that will make you the one to stand out."_

Something to stand out. She could do that. She just needed an idea. She glanced around the halls, looking at posters for different clubs, when a poster for class president caught her eye. She could do that. Everyone would pay attention to everything she had to say!

"_Not **everything **can always be about **you** Maureen!"_

Maureen raised her head higher as she clutched her books to her chest. 'Yes they can.' She could easily pretend to help people in order to get attention for herself. The only problem: she had to have a speech ready by three today in order to run. She could do that. Tell the people what they wanted to hear, that was all she needed to do.

****

Maureen had an hours worth of note cards in front of her as she looked past the harsh lights and into the audience. She had never done something like this without Jessica. It was hard, but if she ran off stage, there was no way she could ever show her face in school again. Her hands were shaking so much she dropped her cards. It would have looked stupid if she picked them up, so she smiled and pretended that it was intentional.

She walked out from behind the podium and stood in the center of the stage. "Ever notice how much these president things are like Cinderella?" She had no idea what she was talking about, but people sat up with interest. "Ya! You remember, the evil step mom says Cinderella can go to the ball if she finishes all her work, and finds something to wear on her own. Well she does, but she's still not allowed to go." Maureen can see the questioning looks on people's faces, so she gets into her performance, making wide gestures with her arms, and face. "Everyone that runs for class president will promise you something. Better food. Longer time between classes. Lockers that open. They offer you all these things, and all you have to do, is vote for them. So, you vote for them. Yay! New class president! But you never get those things you bargained for. This is why I'm not offering you anything but the truth. I will never be able to get you those things, but I will fight for them." She took a dramatic bow, and sauntered off the stage, as the audience rose to a standing ovation. Of course she won, and she continued fighting for peoples rights with the truth, but only for the attention it brought her.


	2. Angel

Angel Dummot-Shunard sat in the waiting room, waiting to see the guidance counselor about getting all the credits he needed in order to graduate. He was in the process of working on a math sheet when he got called in. He took a seat on the side of the desk opposite Miss. Venlo. He hated the way she smiled like nothing was wrong.

"So." He smiled and bit his lip nervously, waiting for her to start talking, but she never took the hint. "What do I need to do?"

Miss. Venlo picked up a folder and looked through it quietly, and smiled back at him. "Angel, you've gotten yourself into quite a situation." He shifted in his seat, as if ready to hear a life sentence, but she just continued. "You didn't get grades in ninth and tenth grad good enough to pass high school on the track you're going."

"Well what does that mean? Do I have to stay back a year?"

"Well there is one other option. If you were to have no study halls and fill every period with a class, you will graduate with just enough credits to pass."

"Okay, I can do that."

"The only problem is, none of the classed you requested will fit into your schedule this year."

"So there are no classes I can take?" All the hope that had risen in his chest suddenly felt crushed.

"Well, the only class you can take this year would be home economics."

"Isn't that like sewing and cooking and cleaning? Like, learning how to be a good house wife?"

Miss. Venlo laughed. "If you want to look at it that way, then yes it is. But it is the only course you can take if you want to graduate with your class. I'm sorry but you have no other options."

Angel rolled his eyes and stood up. "Fine. I guess I have no choice."

Miss. Venlo smiled and handed him a piece of paper. "I'll let Mrs. Smithe know that you're in her class now."

Angel walked out of her office with a sarcastic "Thanks." Thrown over his shoulder.

Angel sat in the back of the class, taking notes. As if being a closet case gay guy wasn't enough, now he had to bake cakes, and learn the proper way to bleach satin. And to make matters worse, he was good at it, and he liked it. Sure, it was a stupid, but it was also the only way he was going to pass.

The teacher told all the students to stand up in front of their desks. "Okay class, we're starting a new project. We're going to sew the dresses for the school play!" Some of the girls were thrilled by this, others rolled their eyes. Ohh, and another thing, Angel was the only boy in this class. "Now, since the dresses are fairly simple, you only need to get into groups of three, so pair up." The girls began scrambling to get into the group with their friends, as Angel slid onto his desk, swinging his legs.

Once everyone was pretty much set in their groups, and Angel was still just sitting there, two girls walked over to him. Sure, he knew them, but he had never talked to them. One was named, Shelly, if he was remembering right, and he wasn't sure about the other girl's name. The one he thought was Shelly walked up to him, with the other girl trailing behind. "Hey Angel." She appeared to know him. "You want to be in our group? We still need one more person, and everyone else is taken."

Angel slid off his desk. "Sure." So after they got the packet of information on the dress they had to make, Angel, Shelly, and Debra (That was the other girls name) set to work on designing it. Angel sat a bit to the side, just putting in his thoughts on colors, and the little things, but when the other two started designing a really ugly green dress, Angel fully took over. "The play's set in the twenties. Nobody would ever wear that in the twenties." Lucky for him, the girls went with everything he had to say, and were even enthusiastic about it.

Well, the play was in one month, so after four weeks of working on this dress, it was complete. They were even having a fashion show with the people from the play, just a small one in the classroom with the people who mad the dress. Angel, Shelly, and Debra were in the back of the room, waiting for Melissa, the girl who would be wearing the dress in the play, to come back and get her dress, when someone else cam back. "You're not Melissa."

"I know. Melissa's sick."

"Then who's gonna wear the dress?"

"That's for you to figure out." The girl walked away, and the three partners looked at each other.

"Well, one of you could wear it." Angel was trying to be helpful.

"Not me. I'm too fat for it." Shelly held the dress up to her and frowned.

"You're not fat."

"I'm obviously fatter than Melissa."

"I can't wear it either. I'm like a foot too short." Debra held the dress. Where it should have gone to the knees, it fell to her ankles. She put the dress down, and the girls looked at each other, smiled, and looked at Angel.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "What?"

"Angel, you can wear the dress!"

He laughed at them. "No I can't!"

"Why not! You're the same height as Melissa, and you're waist is only two inches smaller than hers. It'll fit you perfect!"

"Well ya, but I'm a boy."

"So?"

"Boy's can't wear dresses."

Shelly crossed her arms to match Angel's. "Yes they can, they just don't."

"Come on Angel. The presentation is twenty five percent of our grades. If you don't wear it, we're all gonna fail this class."

"Are you kidding me?" Angel couldn't afford to fail this class. "Fine, I'll do it, but I'm not happy about it." Okay, so maybe he was, a little. The girls hugged him, and left him to get dressed. He put on the dress, and looked in the mirror. _Wow. I look really good. And it's comfy too. _Angel very slowly, after Shelly and Debra explained the situation to their teacher, and she said it was okay, walked out in front of his class mates. They didn't laugh, or make faces. They applauded him for being so brave, and complimented the dress. So maybe it wasn't so bad. Angel kept wearing dresses, not really caring what everyone else though, but still welcoming the compliments.


	3. Mark

Mark leaned back in his seat, smooched between him mom and Cindy on the sofa. He couldn't even move his arm enough to reach the large bowl of popcorn on the table. It was one more night of his mom forcing him to watch 'old movies'. Like he really had time for that! He had school work, and friends to worry about, well, not that many friends, but a few, and watching four hours worth of crappy T.V. every other night was really hurting him and what small social life he had! Sometimes he could get out of it by saying he had homework, but lately his mom had been making him do it right after school, just to put him through the torture of 'family night'. It just wasn't fair.

He looked to his mom and sister who were crying at some beautiful thing that he failed to see, since the angles were so poorly shot, and the story line was so incredibly made up and un lifelike.

He stood up, pushing his sister a fair way off the couch as he did. "I need to go to the bathroom."

He didn't wait but ran to his room and locked the door behind him, grabbing the phone and flinging himself onto the bed. He dialed the most familiar number and pushed his short blond hair out of his eyes. "Hi, is Roger there?... Thanks Ms. Davis… Hey Rog…"

"_Isn't this supposed to be movie time? The time where if I call, I will not be allowed to hang out with you for nearly a month?" _His best friend said this all with a very motherly mocking tone.

"I've escaped for the night. I don't know why she keeps putting me through that! Doesn't she see the torture bad film causes me?" He let out an exaggerated sigh and threw his head back onto his pillow.

"_Like you could do any better."_

"I could. Just pointing the camera in the right direction I'm sure could do wonders, no matter how weak the plot."

"_Why does this bug you so much? It's just a movie."_

"Because they butcher human emotions in those films, and all people can see are the pretty front boys staring in them."

"_Well, if you really think you can do better, I've got a camera you can have."_

Mark sat up in bed, his eyes going wide. "Are you serious?"

"_Sure."_

"Where did you get a camera?"

"_My dad was a photographer for some magazine or TV show. When he started cheating on my mom and left us for some twenty year old twig, mom kicked him out so fast, and I guess he was too ashamed to ask for his things back, so mom boxed the cameras up and put them in the attic. I guess she thought they might be worth something some day."_

"Would she actually let you give me one?"

"_She already tried to give them to me, but I just wasn't interested. And she likes you most of all my friends, so I'm sure it would be okay."_

"Ohh my god! Are you serious?"

"_If you ask me that one more time, then no."_ Mark could hear Roger laughing in the back ground.

"Come over after school tomorrow and bring it with you. Thank you so much Roger! You're the best friend ever!"

"_Well, you are pretty lucky to have someone like Roger Davis on your side. How would you ever survive without me?"_ He heard the phone click and hung up his own phone, jumping off the bed and cheering for the fact that soon, his emotionally stunted family would be watching his movies!

VAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAV

Mark was sitting at the front of the school, waiting for Roger. He was already tapping his toes on the concrete in frustration, and school just got out four minutes ago. He jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He must have jumped a foot. "God Roger, you freak. You don't just sneak up on people! You hum or something."

"Ya, I'll remember to hum next time." Roger rolled his eyes and took his hand off of the huge boxes he was rolling. They were about four large boxes piled onto his skateboard. "This is it. All of his cameras and film. Mom called about it, and turns out that it's not valuable unless you're a collector, so she said to get rid of it all. So here is. I'm not sure the film is still good, but you can check."

I must have been silent for a full ten minutes. "Are you sure about this Roger?"

"I told you, ask again, and no." He turned around and began wheeling the boxes away.

Mark yelled after him. "No, I'm Sorry! I take it back!" He turned around and flashed the infamous smile, and at the moment, Mark could have punched him and hugged him at the same time, having no real preference. "You know, you're just downright cruel sometimes."

He turned around, wheeling the boxes back to me. "I know."

"And you're fine with that?"

"Yes, and I know that one day it will cause me to be a bitter and resentful man, cut off from the world, but for now, I will enjoy using it to my advantage."

"Ya, that's great Roger, Now let's get this stuff to my house." Mark rubbed his hands together, fighting off the chill that still hung in the March air.

VAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVAVA

Mark and Roger had all the cameras set out on Mark's bed, and he was examining them, while Roger stole some of the film and began draping it over everything in Mark's room. "What a fabulous waste of time! And Money, if that film was still good."

Roger smiled again. "Mark, you have a box of film that just might be fine. You'll manage. And it not, I'll buy you more." He went back to draping the film over the windows and doors.

Mark picked up each camera as it were precious. Out of pure choice, nothing at all effecting him, he decided that the black, 16mm camera would be his favorite.

(Do I really need to go into how this would effect his life?)


	4. Collins

I'm not sure if I want to make this one of the short stories, or actually make it into a mini series… let me know which you would prefer… I also know it's not like the other stories where I sum everything up, which is the main reason I may make this into a series, because I don't know how to sum all this up in one short story… Let me know…

VAVAVAVA

Collins slid onto the hood of his nearly broken down car. Maybe it had a few miles left in it, but not many. He looked down to his hands, where a diploma now sat. four years he had worked for this, and he was very disappointed to find that it was just a slip of paper. He wasn't expecting anything more, not really, but the paper was so limp and… paper like. He just couldn't find the real value in it. He was pulled out of thought when he felt two arms slip around him. He leaned his head back. "How was packing? All you dreamed it would be?"

His sarcasm was cut off as Danielle's lips caught his. "That was to shut you up, and yes packing was fine." He threw his bag into the back of Collins car. "But I don't think that this car is going to hold up long enough to get us home."

Collins slid off the hood and into the drivers' seat. "Well, feel free to buy me a new one. Till then, we make due."

Danielle got into the seat beside him and buckled his belt. "Maybe when I'm a world know philosopher, I will."

"Maybe when I'm a world known teacher, telling a bunch of lazy kids about you, I'll take you up on that."

With the radio and periodic talk, the boys made it half way to New York before the car broke down. Luckily, they were in the middle of a town when it happened, so they didn't have to pay to get it towed. After dropping it off at a shop for the night, and better part of the next day, they rented a hotel room to stay in until it was fixed.

VAVAVAVAVAVAV

Collins sat in a chair in the corner of the small room, sipping iced tea, and watching Danielle, who seemed to be shifting uneasily in his seat on the bed. Tea in hand, Collins walked to him and sat beside him, handing it to him. "What's wrong?"

His hand shook as he took a small sip of the tea. "Nothing. I don't feel very well."

"Looks it." He placed a hand on Danielle's forehead. "You feel fine."

"No, it's not a fever thing."

Collins looked at him, quizzically. "Is it an 'I need to tell you something' kind of thing?"

"Kind of…" He trailed off, looking at the ceiling.

He was trying to put two and two together, but it was pretty hard to read Danielle sometimes. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Danielle's face went pale. "I don't want to."

Collins voice got a bit louder, but not shouting. "Is that a no I'm not, or a yes, but I feel bad about it kind of thing?"

"It's not as simple as what I want. Things are so…" He was cut off by Collins lips(they had a way of doing that to each other) Danielle was so startled by this, that he crushed the now empty glass in his hand, cutting his hand open. The glass slid from his now mutilated hand and onto Collins, cutting him as well.

He stood up quickly. "Shit!" With his good hand he pushed Collins cut hand away. "Don't touch anything. I'll clean it up." He ran into the bathroom to nurse his hand.

Collins stood up, still in awe of what had just happened. He looked at the glass and blood on the table. What was the big deal? He could get it cleaned up, it was just glass, and he was already cut, so a bigger cut wasn't much of an issue. He grabbed the waste paper basket and began putting the shards into it.

He had the whole thing nearly cleaned up when Danielle walked out of the bathroom, his hand wrapped what looked like would be too tight. He looked at Collins and all the color drained from his face… _All_... the color. He pulled the basket from his hands harshly. "WHAT THE FUCK THOMAS! I TOLD YOU I WOULD CLEAN IT!"

Collins took a step back. He had never seen Danielle like this. "What's the big deal! It's just glass. I've cleaned it up before."

"It's not just fucking glass! It's blood too! My blood!"

"I'm not afraid of your blood."

Collins took another step back as silent tears began slipping down Danielle's face. "You should be." His next words were nearly a whisper. "Ohh God Thomas, what have I done to you?" He sunk to the floor, still letting the tears fall down his cheeks.

Collins moves to comfort him, placing a hand on his shoulder, only to be pushed away when Danielle jumped up. "God Tom, you don't get it! This was not supposed to happen! That was why I was breaking up with you! May as well screw that now. It's too late. What the fuck." He dropped to the bed and looked at his hands.

What the hell was this? "Are you breaking up with me over a cut?"

Danielle looked up, his cheeks stained with tears. "I didn't want to, but it's all so complicated."

"A cut?"

"No, not the cut. Thomas, God Tom. It wasn't supposed to happen like this." He walked over to Collins, putting a hand on his cheek, and kissing him softly. "I'm gonna go now."

Collins took a deep breath and watched Danielle walk to the door. "Wait. What is all this? Why are you just leaving for no reason? And what the fuck does this have to do with a cut?"

Without looking at Collins, Danielle slowly opened the door and stepped into the hall. He paused for a minute, and looked back, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry Thomas…" Collins just looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "I have AIDS."


End file.
